Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels

by Priscilla West

  I grabbed him and pushed him over. I jumped up and got on top. I grabbed his cock and squeezed it as I sat down back on it. I felt him slide into me slowly, and he let out a small moan as he slid into me as far as he could go. I moved my hips back and forth on top of him, gripping his shoulders to steady myself.

  Dominic began to caress the side of my face and I grabbed his hand and moved it back down to my breasts. His other hand was about to move through my hair and I moved it down to my ass so he would squeeze my cheeks and move me against him. I closed my eyes and focused on my movements.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  He began to breathe heavily, and I knew he was about to come. I pushed down harder and then the faint beginnings of an orgasm began growing in me. I moved faster, grabbing his hands and making him squeeze both my nipples as I slid up and down on him. The orgasm rose in me to a wave of pleasure. I let out a loud moan and then it broke. I came, rocking violently on top of him, and in the middle of my orgasm, Dominic let out a cry as well.

  We both shook with pleasure as the last waves of our climax fizzled. Completely fulfilled, I rolled onto my back, feeling the echoes of having just come. It had been good, exactly what I needed to relieve the stress of work.

  “That was fucking amazing,” he said. He leaned over to kiss me, but I got up from the bed before he could. I looked back at him playfully, letting his eyes scan my naked body once more.

  “It sure was.”

  I walked over to where my clothes were and began dressing. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, naked and glistening with sweat.

  “You don’t have to rush out of here so quickly,” he said. “You can take a shower and crash here. I don’t mind.”

  I laughed. I buttoned up my blouse, threw on my suit jacket and turned to him.

  “That’s very nice of you. But why would I want to stick around?”

  He looked at me and nodded, understanding what I meant perfectly.

  “I needed a good fuck to help me relieve some stress, and believe me honey, you were great,” I said. I winked at him and walked out of his apartment.

  When I sat down in my car, I felt as though I was as light as a feather. Since Mr. Perfect didn’t exist, Mr. Hook-up was the next best thing. I turned up the music and sang along as I drove home.

  Chapter 2

  I woke up in the morning, refreshed and alert. It was still too early to go into work, so I treated myself to another shower. Afterwards, I ate a light breakfast of fruit and drank two large cups of strong, black coffee. I drove to work listening to the news, feeling good about the coming day of work.

  I pulled into my parking spot and turned the car off. I found myself whistling as I opened the door to the office. When April saw me, I noticed a mild look of surprise flash for a brief instant before it was replaced with her customary smile.

  “Good morning,” I said politely.

  “Good morning, Miss Facet,” April replied. “I’ve put the wedding invitations in the outgoing mail slot. Also, I organized your client file for today and left it on your desk like you asked. Is there anything else you’re going to need?”

  “That’ll be all for now. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” I smiled at her and walked into my office and then stopped, turning around. “Oh, there is one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You can feel free to put on some music. Your choice today,” I said warmly.

  “Great! Thanks Miss Facet.” We were pretty much the only two people that were regularly in the office, yet I had never told April to address me by my first name. In fact, none of the employees called me by name, despite the size of the business. Not one freelancer or part-timer called me by anything except Miss Facet. April was our only full-time employee aside from me and she had been here almost from the beginning.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I left my office door open and sat down at the desk. I opened the folder before me and read through it quickly. Female, early thirties, looking for Mr. Right. He must be: attractive, health-conscious, sensitive but not overly sensitive, upper-middle class, athletic, spiritual but not fanatically religious, into traveling, looking to get married, and ready for kids in the next three to five years. The only things she forgot to add was that he must have a big package and slay dragons in his free time. Also, if she happens to eat a poison apple, his kiss will bring her back from the dead.

  I tossed the client folder back onto my desk, not needing to read any further. Her expectations for a partner were beyond realistic, but luckily for her, most men were completely unrealistic when they described themselves. She’d be easy to pair with just about any professional in his early to late thirties who was a tad obsessive about going to the gym and only ate kale and boiled chicken. They’d marry quickly and for a few years, maybe even a decade, they’d believe themselves happy and in love. The fantasy would be nice, for a while.

  The office phone rang above the music. April paused the music mid-song and answered the phone politely. I was checking my phone and not paying much attention to the conversation when she peeked her head into my office.

  “Miss Facet?”

  “Yes, April. What is it?”

  “Well, it’s a gentleman on the phone who wants to speak with you directly.”

  I sighed. “I take it you told him that we always book free consultations first and that I don’t do phone interviews?”

  “Yes, Miss Facet. But he was insistent. He said that if you speak with him, he’ll pay you whatever you charge for an hour and that the phone call won’t take nearly that long.”

  “Fine, you take down his credit card info and bill him for an hour. You tell him that if we go over an hour, he gets billed for an additional hour, even if it’s only ten seconds. Once the charge clears, you can transfer him into my office.”

  I checked my emails while April did her thing. I often dealt with very wealthy clients who were willing to pay to break the rules, whether it was calling me on my personal cell phone or insisting on meeting during non-office hours. It tended to add up to a substantial amount. I usually used the money to give bonuses to the employees at Christmas. Last year I was able to buy entirely new computers in addition to handing out the bonuses. It’d been a good, but annoying, year.

  April leaned her head in my office again and gave me a thumbs up. I waved my hand to signal her to transfer the call and she patched him through. My phone rang silently, as I had it setup to do, and I picked up after the second ring.

  “Hello, this is Julie Facet.”

  “Hey Julie, my name is Stills. I’m not calling for myself. I’m calling on behalf of my best friend.”

  I sighed. This also happened more times than I cared for. People would call up on behalf of their friends, wanting to sign them up for my services. Sometimes it was a Christmas present or a birthday present. Twice, it was a present for the anniversary of a divorce.

  It typically didn’t go well. The person the gift was intended for was either so surprised that they were embarrassed that their friends would think they needed a “dating service”, to which I repeatedly told them I wasn’t some cheap service for getting a person laid, or they were downright offended. I had learned the hard way that when it comes to matchmaking, the person has to volunteer himself. No exceptions.

  “Stills, let me interrupt you here. I’m sorry, but it’s company policy that we only deal directly with the client who is going to use our services. We don’t sell gift cards for our services and I don’t take on anybody who doesn’t directly hire me. Have your friend call me, then I can begin offering him my services.”

  Stills was not to be deterred. “Julie,” he said, pausing to correct himself. “Miss Facet, your services come highly recommended from more than a few of my friends. A few of my happily married friends. I know all about your company. You produce amazing results and I’ve seen it for myself. My buddy needs your help, and honestly, he’s a little embarrassed to call. I work for him, so I offered to call t
o, you know, scope it out for him.”

  “I’m really sorry but—”

  “Look, just meet him, tonight. I’ll pay you. I know you don’t come cheap. But I’ll give you a twenty percent advance on your fee if you just meet him tonight. It’ll be an hour out of your day. You can come down to the club, meet with Leon, and have a free drink. Even if you don’t end up working with him, you’ll get paid just for coming down for a free drink.”

  I considered it for a minute.

  “Okay, I’ll transfer you to my secretary after our discussion and she’ll handle your deposit. You’re fully aware that if this doesn’t work out tonight, you lose your deposit?”

  “Yes, no problemo. I’m positive it’ll go well.”

  “Okay, Stills. Tell me about your friend.”

  “His name is Leon Christensen.” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to the face. “He owns a chain of clubs. I’m the manager of them, and him and I go way back. Leon comes from old money, but you know, I wasn’t nearly as lucky. But Leon is the best guy I know, and that’s why I need you. He’s been in and out of relationships so quickly that it’s almost as if he’s sabotaging himself. If you could help him figure out what he’s doing wrong and find him the perfect match, that would be incredible.”

  I considered it for a moment. It wouldn’t have been the first time I took on a case that took a little bit of attitude adjustment on the client’s part.

  “Come down to The Nova, it’s Leon’s Beverly Hills club. Can you meet him there tonight, maybe around six or so, before we open for the public?”

  I scanned the calendar on my computer and saw that I was free. “Yes, that’ll work for me. I’ll be there at six on the dot. At seven, I leave. I’ll let you know when I leave whether I take his case or not.”

  “Perfect!”

  I transferred him to April and she took his deposit. It was an easy assignment, and if it worked out, I’d have another client. If it didn’t work out, I’d have a significant paycheck for doing relatively little work. While I was always a little annoyed by the rich and their proclivity to not abide by rules, it always worked out in my bank account’s favor.

  The day passed quickly and I left the office before April to go home and get ready. I was neither anxious nor excited. It was just another contract that was waiting to be signed or not signed.

  I pulled up to the club at ten to six and a man, who I assumed was Stills, was waiting outside, talking with a bouncer. He spotted my car and flagged an employee over. I pulled over to the curb in front of the club and got out of my car. The valet Stills had flagged over smiled and bowed slightly to me before getting in my car to park it.

  The club was impressive. Even from the outside, the building was very elegant. The sign out front was neither tacky nor covered with fluorescent lights which screamed that a rave was going on inside.

  I looked at Stills. He was much younger than I expected. His hair was the whitest blond that I’d ever seen on a man. Bulging muscles stretched his expensive suit skin-tight. When he shook my hand, his hand was rough and his fingers were as thick as sausages. His grip was firm, but he didn’t crush my hand with his shake. When he smiled, his face lit up with friendly warmth that made him look like a young teenager.

  “Thank you for coming, Miss Facet,” Stills said genuinely. He smiled. I noticed that his neck was a tree trunk atop his shoulders.

  “You’re welcome, shall we go inside and meet with Mr. Christensen?”

  He led me inside. It was just as nice inside as it was outside. The club was practically empty. There were no customers, only staff preparing for the night ahead. The tables were all arranged neatly and the bar was clean and stylish. It was an upscale club. I admired the decor and sat down at a table that Stills led me to, pulling out a chair for me. I had to admit that I liked this club; I could even see myself coming here and enjoying it.

  Stills ran off to get me a gin martini, extra dirty. When I looked over the bar, I noticed that he was behind the bar, personally making my drink. I smiled.

  “You’re a little early. We’re not open yet. But for you, I suppose I can make an exception.”

  I looked up at the man. He must be Leon Christensen. I was immediately stricken with the thought that this man was much better looking than I had imagined him in my head. His features were sharp, his jaw chiseled and masculine. His cocoa colored hair hung just above his eyes and ears, appearing as though it was haphazardly styled, but I recognized that it was just too perfectly sloppy. His sapphire eyes studied me, waiting for my response.

  I stood up to shake his hand and I realized that Leon Christensen towered over me. He was lean, but when he took my hand, it was a firm grip. His smile was wide and showed a set of perfect teeth, but it was a smile that was also too perfect, as though he had rehearsed it. It was a movie-star smile.

  “You must be Leon Christensen.”

  He lifted my hand and kissed it gently, eyeing me as he did so.

  “And you must be my company for tonight,” he said flirtatiously.

  I took my hand back politely, suppressing the strong desire to roll my eyes at him. I was a professional, and I merely gave him a professional smile. I knew how to deal with flirtatious men without coming off as cold or belittling; it came with the territory. Yet I looked at Leon a little longer than I had ever looked at any other client.

  If only we had met in the gym last night, I thought quickly. I pushed it out of my mind and regained my composure.

  “Please, Mr. Christensen, let’s have a seat and get started with your profile.”

  He raised a hand to his chin and studied me as though he were Sherlock Holmes and this was a murder mystery. I imagined a tobacco pipe in his other hand and I had to stifle the urge to laugh out loud.

  “What do you mean, profile? Is this for some kind of news article or some blog?”

  Stills returned and handed me the gin martini. I thanked him politely and he averted his gaze. I could see how uncomfortable he was standing there and I turned back to Leon. It was clear that Stills had not informed Leon that he had hired me for my services.

  “I’m Julie Facet. I run Facet Matchmaking Services. Your friend, Stills, has hired me to provide my services to you. The first stage of that is to get a complete profile of you.”

  Leon crossed his arms and leaned back on his leg, studying me with a look of increasing annoyance. I could see the anger grow in his face and soon a line cut across his forehead and pushed his eyebrows down.

  “I have no problem finding women for my bed, Miss Facet.” His voice grew harsh at my name. “So I don’t need the services of a madam.”

  I felt anger well up inside me. I’d been insulted before in this business, but at no point had anybody ever insinuated that I managed a prostitution ring.

  “I run a matchmaking service, Mr. Christensen. I find other clients who’ve hired me to pair them with—” I began indignantly. Leon turned and started walking away, waving his arm dismissively.

  “Whatever. I don’t need you. You can let yourself out or hang around until we open. I don’t care,” he said, his voice trailing off as he walked up a staircase to an office that overlooked the club.

  I took a large drink of my martini. I put it down on a table and turned around to see Stills looking at me, his face bright red with embarrassment.

  “Miss Facet, I’m so sorry, I really—”

  “Thank you for the drink, Stills. And thank you for wasting my time.”

  I walked out. The valet quickly brought my car and I tipped him well.

  “Your boss is a true asshole, kid.”

  Chapter 3

  The next day, I sat in my office and sorted through a file for a wealthy client. My office door was closed. I’d told April to put on her music again, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen to anything so I barricaded myself in my office. I told April no calls were to be transferred to me. No exceptions.

  The client I was working on was an heir to a h
otel chain fortune. I read his profile with growing interest as I began to understand that he was actually a nice guy. Unfortunately, his luck with women was nonexistent. His fortune attracted bottom feeders and gold diggers.

  I really just want a woman who I can spend my free time with and feel like I’m hanging out with my best friend.

  I continued to read more quotes that I’d transcribed, remembering how sincere he’d been. There had been a sadness to everything he said, as though he were so jaded that I was his last resort. I was the last vestige of hope for a man’s dying heart.

  I want a partner. I want to be in love and create a whole life with this person. Marriage, family, the works. I don’t want some person who only wants me for my money.

  I liked this client. I found myself really hoping that everything would work out for him. I made a decision then that I was going to make him a special case; there would be no quick fixes or simple algorithmic connection for him. I’d have to explain to him that it was going to take longer than usual, but it’d be worth it.

  I looked through two female client folders that I felt could be a match. After scanning through them carefully, I decided that while they were close, I could do better. Then I heard my office door open.

  Stills stood before me, April behind him, apparently unable to stop his entrance. She was trying to guide him back out of my office, and I could see a look of fear on her face, not fear of Stills, but fear of my reaction.

  “April, it’s all right. I know you tried to keep him out, but this one’s persistent,” I said warmly to her, focusing my eyes on Stills.

  “I’m so sorry,” April began explaining.

  “Why don’t you go grab some lunch, it’s my treat today. Take at least an hour. And when you come back, bring me something, please.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and thanked me profusely. She looked at Stills with mild anger and then let herself out of my office. I heard the front door open and close. Stills and I were alone. I eyed him carefully.